Mistletoe to the Rescue
by LadyDivine91
Summary: When an unruly Tracy won't go to bed (and it's all her father's fault), Kurt finds a way to persuade his husband that hits a bit below the belt. Daddies!Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**_Notes: Re-written for the Klaine Advent 2017 prompt 'underline'. Daddies!Klaine._**

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and scowls as he watches his husband and daughter grapple on the floor over the plastic Bryan Ferry Christmas ornament Blaine bought on their trip to Liverpool last year. The fight isn't over the ornament, per se, but its placement. Blaine feels it should go top, front, and center since the trip in question was an anniversary present from Kurt. Tracy feels it should hang next to her Barbie ornament since (quote) _she deserves better than Ken_.

"I get to put it up!" Tracy argues, grunting beneath her father's weight, holding the ornament over her head to keep it out of Blaine's reach.

"No, _I_ get to put it up!" Blaine growls playfully, pretending that he can only barely reach the ornament that his daughter holds aloft in her tiny hand.

"Guys!" Kurt calls over the melee, clapping his hands to get their attention. "It's time for bed. It's _way_ past Tracy's bedtime."

The wrestling match halts with Bryan Ferry hovering above their heads, clutched in Tracy's fist. Two faces turn towards Kurt wearing disappointed frowns.

"Awwww!" they both moan.

"But, Papa!" Tracy protests. "The tree is only _half_ done!"

"Then we'll finish it in the morning," Kurt says. "Though, if the two of you could put up the ornaments instead of fighting over them, this tree would have been decorated _hours_ ago."

"Can't we finish it _now_?" Tracy whines in that annoying but forgivable way excited children do during the holidays. " _Pllleeeaaaasssseee_?"

"Yeah, Kurt!" Blaine adds. " _Pllleeeeaaassseee_?"

"Blaine," Kurt snaps, doing his best to curb his temper. "We talked about this. We need to show a unified front. Tracy needs to stick to her schedule."

"But … but it's Christmas," Blaine pouts in an exaggerated Tiny Tim-esque Cockney accent, a smile in his eyes.

"Blaine …" Kurt taps the toe of his foot "… it's December _10th_. She still has a few more weeks of school left before break."

"It's Christmas _month_ ," Blaine corrects him, "and during Christmas month, every day in December is Christmas Eve until Christmas arrives. Everybody knows that."

"Yeah," Tracy agrees. "Everybody knows that."

There's a pause, thick with tension, while the duo on the floor stare up at their disciplinarian. Then, apparently without needing another word from Kurt, the two start wrestling again. Tracy holds the coveted ornament tight in her grasp, and Blaine stands with the girl, lifting her up onto his shoulder and spinning her around like the propeller of a helicopter.

Kurt watches them and sighs, knowing that, in five minutes, he'll be cleaning up kid puke off the floor.

Kurt looks at the forgotten Christmas decorations – ornaments without hangers, or tops altogether; a length of gold garland, crimped in the middle; a string of defective lights strewn messily over the sofa; when he catches sight of an opportunity to end this bedtime struggle.

Kurt doesn't like to resort to baser tactics when dealing with the disobedience of his husband and daughter, but he has no other alternative.

"Okay," he says, throwing his hands up in surrender. "You guys win."

Blaine stops spinning. He looks at Tracy, and the two of them throw their fists triumphantly in the air.

"Yup," Kurt continues, "you guys get to stay up as _long_ as you both like. But first, _I_ get to give Daddy a kiss under the mistletoe."

"Woo-hoo!" Blaine cheers, lowering his daughter (who steals the chance to hang Bryan Ferry on the tree) and sashaying up to his husband. "Okay. So …" He looks up and around "… where did you hang it, hon?"

Kurt locks his eyes on Blaine, tugging his husband towards him by his belt. He fiddles with the end that sticks through the buckle, luring Blaine to his lips with come hither eyes. Blaine leans in, lips barely brushing Kurt's, but Kurt backs away with a smile and a shake of his head. Blaine stares at him, confusion on his face. Kurt's eyes dart downward, underlining a silent statement, and Blaine's eyes follow to where Kurt's hands rest on his belt. There, dangling from the curl in the leather, Kurt has hung a sprig of fresh mistletoe.

Blaine stares blankly at the new adornment on his belt. It takes him half a second before he fully comprehends, but when he does, he turns and races like a shot to the tree to gather up their little girl.

"Come on, Peanut!" Blaine barrels for her bedroom with his giggling daughter slung over one shoulder. "We have to listen to Papa. It's time you were asleep … deep, _deep_ asleep …"


End file.
